They Began to Enjoy the Banquet
They began to enjoy the banquet. Whether the food was fine cuisine or cheap fare made no difference. Compared to Aum's cooking, anything would taste like nectar from the heavens! If there were no musicians, they would play the tunes themselves. No poets? They would recite verses. No dancers? They would dance!
The Berserk Warriors shed their armor and started prancing about with wild abandon.
"Kudan, Captain! Cheers!"
"Cheers!"
Kudan drank and drank the liquor the Berserk Warriors pressed on him until he finally vomited up everything he'd eaten. The warriors roared with laughter and slapped his back heartily.
"Alright! Let me tell you of my adventures!"
The Berserk Warriors sang ancient songs passed down across the frozen lands or spun tales of their exploits to stoke the revelry…
"Holy Maiden, care to dance with us?"
"Pardon?"
"Come on, come on…!"
A few Berserk Warriors even approached Kankun with invitations. She glanced at Loki, then forced an awkward smile.
"I'm not much of a dancer…"
"You danced great at the festival! Come on! Come on!"
"The Holy Maiden's joining us! Everyone, applause!"
"W-Well, just a little then…"
Applause thundered through the hall…
"Hey, fairy girl! Try this!"
"And this too."
"You know how to drink?"
"……."
Some of the Berserk Warriors turned their attention to Salat. Her hood was up, but they'd long noticed her long ears. Salat felt bewildered by the sudden interest from these hulking warriors.
"What? Can't hold your liquor? That's why elves are…! Worse than dwarves!"
Salat bristled at the taunt, glaring at the warrior who'd offered the drink as she snatched the tankard. It was so large she could barely grip it with both hands, but she downed it in one go.
The Berserk Warriors' eyes bulged as they stared. Salat slammed the empty tankard on the table.
"…Hic."
Her face flushed crimson, her eyes spun, and she face-planted onto the table. The warriors slapped their knees, howling with laughter.
"Care for a drink?"
"Don't mind if I do."
Loki lightly accepted the cup Aum offered. Joyous. Merry. This was a proper feast! A place where rank existed but was ignored—a festival for them alone.
Then—
Bam!
The door burst open amid the raucous banquet. The Berserk Warriors, deep in their revels, turned toward the sound. Reflexively, they glanced at their weapons before scrutinizing the newcomers.
The most striking figure was the blond, blue-eyed prince, Ash Ronia. He wore luxurious robes of red embroidered with gold thread. Nobles trailed behind him.
The Berserk Warriors looked to Kudan, who looked to Aum, who looked to Loki.
"What shall we do, my lord?"
"Handle it as you see fit."
Aum gave a wry smile as Loki took a sip of his drink. He eyed the nobles. Their expressions? Utter disbelief and absurdity, laced with mockery and disdain.
It was inevitable. To these haughty aristocrats, the Berserk Warriors' merrymaking looked utterly barbaric. Clad only in leather, dancing wildly, guzzling booze, food scraps and vomit littering the floor. And their crude songs echoing through the thick door…
'Well, then. How will they react?'
Aum's face lit up with curiosity. He approached Ash with an exaggerated, clumsy bow—the sort a commoner ignorant of etiquette might make. To the nobles, it made Aum and everyone here seem utterly lowborn.
"Ash… uh, er, what was it? Ah! Ash Ronia, Your Highness~!"
Aum staggered as if drunk.
"Ah, yes… sure."
Ash nodded blankly, scanning the hall. He'd ordered a lavish feast, yet it brimmed with cheap peasant grub. And not just that—no musicians, poets, or dancers to entertain, no servants to attend.
"Such a splendid banquet…! Ha! Ha! Ha! We are eternally grateful for preparing this feast in honor of rescuing Your Highness."
Aum bowed low, flashing a smile up at Ash. But his narrowed eyes gleamed with chilling sharpness.
Ash sensed something amiss. Every exaggerated gesture, every pointed word from Aum felt like mockery—and a warning. The feigned drunkenness, the deliberate etiquette blunders. All of it spelled ill omen.
Unlike Ash, the nobles began sneering openly.
"Those filthy wretches…"
"Barbarians, as expected. How can they revel so vulgarly?"
Their murmurs were low enough not to reach Ash directly—but surely audible to Aum standing before them.
'What the—?!'
Ash whirled, glaring at the nobles in fury. They had no idea the power these Berserk Warriors wielded. Win them as allies, and victory was assured—yet this was how they treated them?! If these warriors turned hostile and abandoned eastern Ronia, all hope was lost.
"Do you mock us, Nords? All of you, on your knees—"
One noble overstepped—
"Oh dear! Oh dear! To serve such crude fare…! Our deepest apologies. We've failed to entertain you properly."
A man stepped forward from beside Ash—paunchy, bald, with a finely groomed mustache, in his mid-forties. Hallum Marquis, a key figure in eastern Ronia.
He clapped, and servants appeared with gourmet dishes, followed by musicians, poets, and graceful dancers.
"It seems we've misguided you to the soldiers' morale-boosting gathering by mistake."
Hallum's face beamed with false mirth, rubbing his hands obsequiously. Despite his marquis rank, he groveled.
"I hear you're the great Nords?"
The marquis lifted Aum's torso with both hands. Aum smiled outwardly but grimaced inwardly.
'…What the hell is this guy?'
Things had been going smoothly, but now a high noble had appeared, shifting the tone.
"Ah! In the chaos, I haven't heard how Your Highness met them. Ash."
"…P-Pardon? Why do you ask?"
Ash faltered at Hallum's words and demeanor, sensing the situation twist oddly.
"Tell us how you met them. Oh, and…"
Hallum eyed the Berserk Warriors with a sly grin.
"You were sharing heroic tales earlier… I'd love to hear them too. If it wouldn't be rude, might you indulge us?"
"……."
The Berserk Warriors looked to Aum, who now covered his face and clicked his tongue.
'…Damn. We almost had our pretext right there. Well, plenty more opportunities.'
He itched to flip the room then and there, but without solid justification, it risked backlash from other nations and diplomatic isolation. That would harm not just Asgard but every Nord across the continent.
Regrettable, but he'd let it slide for now.
In the end, Hallum Marquis restarted the banquet. As stories flowed, he chimed in enthusiastically with Loki's group.
"Ah ha! You rescued Prince Ash! To save him from that plague-infested hell—true heroes! And… I hear it's the new nation of Asgard. What sort of kingdom is it? Astonishing! I never imagined such a place…!"
Far from turning hostile, the mood softened further.
'…Good.'
Ash exhaled in relief, his unease fading. The Berserk Warriors reveled freely, Loki just drank, Aum chatted with Hallum. Kankun patted the passed-out Salat's back.
'…Beautiful. Elves are elves, after all.'
Ash stole glances at Salat. Drunk, her face flushed as she lolled her head side to side. She'd downed every tankard the warriors offered without refusal. When they worried she'd overdone it because of them, she'd just yelled, "I won't lose to any dwarf!"
'…Would she accept if I offered a drink?'
Ash eyed his wine glass, filled with clear red vintage—nothing like their massive beer mugs.
'Yes. No reason she wouldn't. Fine wine from a noble like me. She'd be honored.'
As Ash moved toward Salat—
"Ah! Your Highness. A word…"
Someone grabbed his shoulder. Hallum Marquis.
"Hm? Ah, j-just a moment. There's a lady I want to share a drink with…"
Hallum smiled, but his eyes were lukewarm, his grip tightening.
"It'll only take a moment."
"……!"
A chill ran down Ash's spine. He nodded mutely.
They gathered in the command room. A long table flanked by chairs. Ash sat at the center, Hallum Marquis beside him, nobles around.
They discussed the Berserk Warriors they'd just seen.
"Filthy scum."
"Reveling like the barbarians they are."
"What? Slaughtered a thousand Wights? Insane. Brag moderately!"
No good words from them—just sneers, insults, disdain.
Ash's face paled with every barb.
"Well, since they did bring Your Highness… a small reward at least…"
"Ridiculous! A reward? We need every coin for mercenaries now!"
"Exactly. Honor of saving royalty should suffice."
"Agreed. They'll take pride in their deed! Honor can't be bought."
"……."
Ash just stared at the nobles. They didn't believe his account. He turned to Hallum.
"…H-Hallum Marquis. We need to talk."
Hallum smiled.
"Of course. Speak."
His single word silenced the chatter. The nobles, rowdy when Ash spoke, hung on Hallum's every syllable—as if he held ultimate authority here.
"About… Asgard. Rather than rewards, perhaps diplomatic talks…"
A scoff interrupted.
"Ha! Diplomacy, you say? Your Highness?"
It mocked even the prince.